


Within an Interval

by jusrecht



Category: Gundam SEED
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-14
Updated: 2006-03-14
Packaged: 2018-02-11 14:59:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2072610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes more than love to marry someone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Within an Interval

It had to be a joke.

But the likelihood seemed to be rather non-existent now that he had to fight his way through the sea of reporters. Athrun Zala gritted his teeth as flashes of light filled the corridor, adding more chaos to the heightening commotion. Severe anxiety rapidly demolishing his patience, he was ready to snarl at the various microphones presented before his face when just in time, his guards strode forward and provided him with a clearer path.

With hands plunged into the depth of his pocket, Athrun sighed and quickened his pace, leaving the reporters to the capable hands of his guards and secretary. The sharp smell of antiseptic hit his nose as he made his way to the receptionist desk where a nurse in white pristine uniform sat behind. She looked up at his approach, a trained smile gracing her face, but he ignored it.

"Cagalli Yula Athha."

She was still for a moment, the faintest look of surprise flitting across her face, but then quickly turned to her computer and typed a string of words. Athrun bit his lips, the coldness of the edge of his fingers scraping a small package in his pocket as he repeatedly glanced to a television which broadcasted the news of a shooting incident at Leon Square where the celebration of the end of the war seven years ago took place.

_Damn it._

"Room 602 on the sixth floor, Sir," the nurse replied smoothly, deep respect evident in her voice now that she obviously recognized him. Athrun nodded his gratitude and rushed to the elevator.

He should have expected the size of the crowd that was gathering in front of Cagalli's room, but with a mind which was crammed with anxiety, it still surprised him once he stepped out from the elevator. His arrival turned most heads to him and almost as immediate, conversations died down to low murmurs as if his presence alone had the power to still the air. For some reasons, it amplified his uneasiness but before he could open his mouth to inquire, a familiar voice had addressed him, filled with surprise.

"Chairman Zala!"

Athrun turned to the source and found himself looking at the anxious face of Cagalli's secretary. The thirty-year-old woman approached him with markedly less grace than usual, a state he had never seen her in before, and Athrun nearly felt his head exploding with worry and questions. Only one slipped past his lips in the shape of a hoarse, almost whisper.

"Lady Athha?"

"The incident was too sudden, really the most unfortunate, Sir," her voice gained its usual composure once she turned to the details and the wave of her hand when she gestured to the door in front of her was steady enough. "The lady was wounded by a gunshot and now–"

Athrun didn't wait for her to finish and hurried to the tightly closed door, opening it with one forceful push. There were many figures in white, all looking at him is astonishment as if he was a dangerous, uncivilized ruffian barging in, and for the briefest moment Athrun felt that the world was conspiring against him. He had just realized that actually there were only four persons in the room when Cagalli's voice rose amidst the silence.

"Athrun?

She was half-sitting on the bed, still dressed in her formal uniform, white bandages covering almost half of the left side of her face, and he let out a hitched breath he had been holding since who-knows-when. A muffled 'sorry' followed soon after but she had nodded to the hospital staffs who then filed out quietly, one of them throwing him a small, reassuring smile as he did so. Athrun returned it with a stiff smile but once the door had been closed and silence reigned again, his knees gave way and he slumped back to the door.

With eyes still hidden behind closed eyelids, he didn't quite see anything but he heard the distinct rustling of sheet and her anxious voice calling out a moment later, "Hey, are you alri–"

"Don't!" Athrun raised a hand, his voice coming out a little too harsh than he had intended. The sound stopped and he opened his eyes, meeting her perplexed gaze, and said weakly, "Stay where you are."

Cagalli fell silent and he closed his eyes again, head cradled in one hand as he tried to resort his whirling emotions. It had been years since the last time he had fallen to this shape, but the gaining of several years seemed to do little to nothing about it. Athrun drew in a shaky breath, wondering why all broke loose today. Perhaps it had something to do with the incessant pressure his eminent status inevitably brought, or maybe it had more to do with the fact that this supposedly dangerous incident involved _her_.

Athrun let go another sigh and looked up to Cagalli who still waited patiently, now with a small frown creasing her forehead. He gave her a faint smile and said apologetically, "Sorry. I was just a bit...overwhelmed."

The puzzlement in her eyes softened to a quiet understanding. "I suppose you heard the news in your journey here?" she said, her left hand unconsciously touching the back of her neck as she had often done when she was feeling uncomfortable, and he couldn't help but to wonder if her golden eyes were just a little too cautious to his liking.

"In the shuttle," he bit his lips, trying to suppress the fresh memory from rapidly surfacing and inflicting him new wounds. It failed, but he continued nonetheless, "I tried to get hold of you but every line seemed to be busy and your cell phone was inactive."

"Out of battery."

Athrun groaned inwardly. Why was it always the simplest – often also the stupidest – cause which provoked the greatest fear? And he had almost made a fool out of himself by acting so paranoid.

"Don't tell me you think I'm gonna die or something," her face was lit up by a small grin, quiet amusement dancing in those eyes.

As ridiculous as it sounded, Athrun had to admit that he had been thinking along that line. He smiled grimly in return, silently reproaching his foolishness, and stood up to approach the bed, and as he slowly sat by her side, studying the covered half of her face, it suddenly didn't sound so ridiculous anymore. Perhaps he had overreacted, or perhaps his anxiety had just taken the better of him and rendered him blind to common sense; no matter what, he tried to defend himself, it was stirred by a very unpleasant thought and none should be blamed for fearing the life of a dearly loved one.

"Are you really alright?" he finally asked.

"Yeah, most of it," she answered with a smile, her voice light and Athrun once again was forced to reprimand himself for being so paranoid out of nothing. She waved toward the circles of bandage and went on nonchalantly, "A shot was directed at me but the bullet missed. It only grazed my left ear. You know how blood will gush from an ear wound and there goes the panic."

"I couldn't reach you," he stated, his voice holding a hint of accusation. "Neither could Kira when I told him about this incident. He was ready to take Freedom and fly directly to Earth once I said you didn't answer my call. Luckily Lacus could calm him down."

"But it wasn't my fault! My phone was out of battery!" she defended herself, fierceness suddenly clawing into her voice as if to cover the shade of guilt tinting its verges. On second thought, perhaps it was indeed the case.

"Since it was your phone, the fault is yours technically," Athrun pointed out and smiled when she only snorted in response. More out of habit than anything, he raised a hand, running long digits gently through her blond locks, only to stop upon reaching the edge of the binding half-around her head. The insecurity returned like the first, unforeseen blast of wind in the beginning of a squall and he stared silently at the tangled of bandages, fingers hovering just above them in the ghost of a touch, and whispered, "It was too close."

She turned a pair of curious eyes at him and he almost could see a negligent reply already floating on the edge of her tongue. But she saw his face and the flippancy vanished, leaving only a bare rigidity in place and her voice cracked. "Yeah, I guess so."

Athrun had often wondered where her strength had come from and once again he found himself questioning the same issue when she looked away, her lips slightly trembling. A little smile bloomed on his lips, because even though far from cheerful and slightly melancholy, this side of her never ceased to amaze, often frustrate, him. He slipped an arm around her shoulders which had suddenly tensed upon the intrusion, and said softly, "You just will never change, will you?"

Her shoulders slackened a bit, but Cagalli still refused to look at him. "Everything is okay," she murmured, almost as if speaking to herself.

"No," he declared firmly, his hold on her tightening momentarily before the same hand gently guided her head to take shelter under his chin, careful not to agitate the wound on her ear. And he held her silently, not uttering a word even when her shoulders started to quiver and he felt dampness at the base of his neck.

"Damn it," the words fallen out of her mouth amidst repressed sobs and harsh whimpers. "I hate to cry."

Athrun sighed, for some reasons relieved but also miserable, and realized belatedly that he was trembling too. Pulling her closer, he whispered quietly, "I was afraid too. I thought the worst had happened when I heard about the shooting."

Cagalli looked up, her tear-glazed eyes gleaming with something close to exasperation. "Don't be ridiculous, Athrun. This isn't the first time something like this happens."

"No, it means more than that," he stared at her seriously, his free hand sinking into the pocket of his coat and for a moment, fiddling with the box nestled in the bottom of aforementioned pocket. He withdrew a deep breath, steeling his nerves, and slowly – almost reluctantly – brought it up and presented it under her quizzical gaze.

"I was afraid that I would never have the chance to give you this."

Silence descended among them like a thin layer of cold snow and he at once recognized the shadow which had darkened her golden eyes. His stomach lurched, because they had arrived at this stage more than thrice, though never with a ring before, and at each time, they had always been forced to return to the starting point, forlorn and yet unable to choose the otherwise. He knew that promises were the only thing which held them back, her desperate promises to her father and the oath he had sworn to himself in front of his father's death body, to save PLANT and humanity at all costs. Athrun still remembered her determined eyes, ignorant of the tears they were spilling, and the rigid edges of her mouth. He also couldn't forget his own pain, thickly dyed with anger to his own self and the world, the memories often burning into him in the darkest and loneliest of nights. But one question always trailed his doubts, one which had been thrown so candidly by his secretary in passing, about his priorities and their order.

Athrun didn't even want to begin thinking where Cagalli was in that list.

He loved her, at least that much he was certain, but neither of them wanted to let go of their responsibilities in each office, bound by duty and memories to their own deceased father. Perhaps they were too stubborn, or perhaps they didn't love each other as much as he thought.

"We've talked about this, Athrun," her voice was soft, patient.

"Argued about it will be a better term," he mumbled, more to fill the blank she had left because he couldn't find words decent enough to respond to that patience.

"Yes, of course," a little smile flitted across her face, but it too soon vanished under her rapidly-returning somberness. "I don't want us to do anything stupid," she said quietly, steadily holding his gaze with a too-familiar resolve.

"I know, but we don't get younger either," Athrun replied, frustration starting to seep into his voice. Her resolve was a wall he had never succeeded to surmount and it hurt him to remember who had forced her to build it in the first place. He reached for her hands and put into them the black velvety box, adding softly, "We can try, Cagalli."

She looked down, her fingers tracing the lid of the box slowly as if she wanted to memorize how it felt under her touch, wanting but still refusing to surrender to that want. Athrun remained silent, for he knew what she was battling with and it was a territory not even him could set a foot on, and so he waited until her golden eyes met his again and she whispered, "It will never work, you know that."

"We don't know that yet," he insisted, his voice rising, because he saw the doubt in her eyes and couldn't help but to run after that small flicker of hope. "What are you so afraid of? You used to be so brave. Too brave," he added wistfully, recalling several moments when she had almost lost her life out of careless, often mad feats. She had been, once, full of life, ready to act without thinking and he had fallen in love with her, so naturally and inevitably because her free soul had lent him enough strength to break away from the confinement his father's influences and those long, harsh military educations had molded into his bones. She hadn't been flawless, but it had been fine for him because it meant that she would need him as much as he did her and, for some reasons, it had allowed him a certain sense of security.

And now, as he sat there holding her and yet feeling that she was steadily slipping away, Athrun wondered if this Cagalli still needed him. Probably to a certain extent, which boundary he was reluctant to think about, but undoubtedly not someone she couldn't live without.

"Impulses," she replied, a shudder running through her body as she uttered the word. "And now you're acting on impulse, Athrun. I know you're scared of losing me and so you take this step." She clasped her fingers around the box and looked up, her expression suddenly firm. "Decisions made on impulse are seldom right and you know it. You _have_ made that mistake."

Athrun opened his mouth but couldn't find his voice in spite of the myriads of replies racing inside his head, and seeing this, she spoke again, a series of grim conjectures flowing out like a violent gush of a rainstorm. "If you marry me we'll start to wonder why we can't have more times together. If we have a baby, I will wonder why I have to divide my time between duty and my own flesh and blood. If there is something wrong with PLANT, you will return to your people no matter what like you've always done. If something happens to me or to our child, you will blame yourself why you aren't there with us. If we–"

She looked away, the words disappearing from her lips, and Athrun heard, despite his own growing numbness, her sharp intake of breath, and knew that this wasn't any less painful for her. She bit her trembling lips and searched once more for his gaze, stating matter-of-factly, "Marriage will destroy us, Athrun. It _will_ completely destroy us."

"But you are the one I want to spend the rest of my life with," he said faintly, not quite realizing that his mouth had formed those words.

"I know," Cagalli whispered in return, on her lips a smile that seemed so wistful that he had to curse himself spitefully for having the idea to propose her. But then she leant forward, almost enough to cease his heart from beating, and brushed her lips on his cheek, missing his lips in a measure too little and yet felt so far. "Thank you," she mouthed in front of his ear, light wisps of breath caressing the outer shell of his earlobe, and for a sudden moment, he was instantly seized by fear that she would vanish into thin air and it was farewell.

 _Ridiculous._ It was only the whisper of pain and dejection. She would not – could not – vanish because she had too much, on her shoulders and in her heart. Even if everyone she held dear in her heart was gone, she would remain because ORB and her father's promises would keep her there.

The paradox of it all. He wondered how strength and bravery, two closest brother-in-arms, could make a person so different.

Athrun took a deep breath and said, "I understand."

He _always_ did.

She nodded, her lips thin but a firm line on her equally firm face. Her fingers tightened around the unopened box and her lips moved as if trying to form words that vehemently refused to expose themselves, but Athrun was faster. He put his hand on top of hers and gave it a slight press as he looked straight into her eyes.

"Keep it. It's yours."

"No," she shook her head stubbornly and he was reminded to a ring he had given her seven years ago, one she used to cherish with all her heart and one day had just disappeared from her finger. He had never asked her why, because to not know was sometimes better.

But he knew what she was doing now. He had seen that light in her eyes before and Meyrin, despite what she deeply harbored for him, had told him why. Athrun almost laughed. The impossibility of it all was so sheer that it almost seemed funny and he wondered if she would ever understand. There had never been any other girl or woman in his life and to change that, even if he wished to, was just a little out of reach.

"It's yours," his voice was hard, almost emotionless. He was already too numb. A little more pain would hardly matter.

The light in her eyes dimmed, patched with something that might seem like pride, happiness if it wasn't so wistful. Her whispered 'I'm sorry' shattered into wrecked, disjointed echoes and he drew her closer, burying his face in the mass of her golden hair, half-wishing that he hadn't left her that day seven years ago and made her into this woman he barely knew and yet couldn't help but love still.  
  


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